


Nicotina

by torres



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:03:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torres/pseuds/torres
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stevie is a cop trying to close down a notorious sex den in Liverpool. Xabi fights to protect his business and his wards. Fernando and Daniel struggle to work together in the most emotionally demanding of jobs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the job

There was no red dress, no red light. No flickering street lamp over a dark and dirty alley.

There was only a basement below a short restaurant strip by the Liverpool docks. And when the Chinese takeaway closed in for the night, they opened the side door that led underground.

Sometimes the strangest of sins happened in the most common of places, and tonight it began right here.

Steven Gerrard pushed his hands into his pockets to keep them from the biting wind. He looked around the compound – the trash was dumped haphazardly along the entrance, and it smelled of rotten vegetables and piss as he walked by. The light of the restaurant signs were all switched off now, except for a convenience store at the far corner. Potholes filled with this afternoon’s murky rainwater riddled the uneven asphalt.

It was a dump, if he ever saw one, and a deserted one at that – but he knew better.

He made his way to the side door. It was rusty on its hinges and it creaked noisily as he pushed it open. Nevertheless, it led to a tiny stairwell. Making his way down, he could already hear the busy noises of people chattering among themselves. Skipping the last steps and jumping down, Stevie looked around the brightly-lit, narrow corridor.

It was still relatively early, so not that many people were milling around. But the farthest door on the right already had people coming in and out in twos or threes. He followed the trickle of people, but when he got to the door, a bald, burly man stopped him.

“Ticket?” He asked. And if Stevie’s information was correct, that accent was Spanish.

“Is this the live show?” Stevie asked.

“ _Si_.” So, he was Spanish.

“I don’t have a ticket.”

“No ticket, no entrance,” the doorman said, crossing his arms.

Stevie looked in – the seats were all occupied and some people were already taking their places in the back, trying to find standing room.

“Well, where can I get a ticket?” Stevie asked impatiently.

A small humourless smile crept on the doorman’s face. “Show’s sold out.”

“What do you mean, sold out?” Stevie demanded.

“It means you can’t get in, now get a move on!” A lad behind him snapped impatiently, waving his pink stub in the Scouser’s face.

Stevie frowned and was about to take a step to the side to let the others pass. Until he saw a familiar face in the crowd inside.

“Excuse me, is Xabi Alonso inside?” Stevie squeezed into the front of the line again, not caring that he was shouldering the ruddy-faced porker behind him out of the way.

The doorman paused, and for a moment he looked unsure of how to react.

“Yes. Why?” He asked tersely.

“Tell him he promised to reserve me a seat.” Stevie smiled to himself as he continued, “Tell him it’s for Steven Gerrard. We go way back.”

The Spaniard did not look thoroughly convinced. “Why don’t I get him and you can go tell him yourself?”

Stevie shrugged and made himself comfortable, leaning on the doorjamb. The doorman disappeared into the throng of people, and after a couple of moments, he emerged side by side with a tall brunette with a distinctive air and a square jaw covered with a five o’clock shadow.

“Mr Alonso,” Stevie grinned.

The newcomer didn’t look as amused. His eyes were narrowed as he greeted back, “Mr Gerrard.”

“Aren’t you inviting me in, Xabier?” Stevie asked, letting the syllables of the name roll off his lips with the best Spanish accent he could muster. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be rude.”

Xabi stared hard at the Scouser, mouth set into a grim line. Finally, he spoke coldly. “Let him in, Pepe.”

The doorman seemed like he didn’t want to agree, but he wasn’t going to question Xabi either.

“Yes, boss,” Pepe said before hesitantly opening the door wider to let Stevie step inside.

*

“Daniel?” Fernando asked, staring at himself in the mirror.

“Hmm?” Dan looked up from his iPod to the other boy in the cramped dressing room.

“Do you think that maybe you could be a little more gentle this time?” Fernando asked distractedly, fingers gingerly touching at his chest.

Confused, Dan stood up and approached the Spaniard by the dresser. “What do you mean?”

“Look,” Fernando said with a slight frown. He hesitated for a second as he thought about pulling off his shirt to show Daniel what was bothering him. The Dane sensed the boy’s reluctance and wrapped his fingers around Fernando’s wrist. 

“Go on,” he coaxed softly.

Fernando looked up at him questioningly at the tender tone in his voice. Dan coughed and joked to make this less awkward than it already was – “You know, I’ve already seen you naked too many times. Lifting your shirt now doesn’t really make much of an impact.”

Fernando squirmed uncomfortably but he didn’t argue when Dan gingerly lifted the hem of his shirt, raising the garment all the way up to his armpits. A bruise came into view. It was a snarled line, a deep cut, just a few inches at the flesh below Fernando’s left nipple. The colour was a nasty reddish-purple in stark contrast to the pale skin.

“Did I do that?” Dan asked, face contorting as he completely failed at stifling a proud, devious grin.

Fernando hit him in annoyance. “Yes!” He followed it up with a pout, “You bite too hard.”

Dan laughed, still not looking the least bit remorseful. He held his hands up in innocence. “I get carried away, okay?”

Apparently, the Spaniard didn’t find that reason acceptable because he only frowned even more. He pushed down his shirt over his torso again and stepped away from the Dane, crossing his arms. Dan shook his head and reached out to ruffle Fernando’s hair affectionately.

“Fine, I’ll be gentler tonight.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

Dan put on his best smile, “I promise.” He leaned in and placed a soft peck on the boy’s cheek, and Fernando couldn’t help but stutter in spite of himself.

“Fine,” Fernando relented, before pushing Dan away from him good-naturedly. “You can go back to your iPod now.”

Dan laughed and walked backwards to the couch he was sitting on a few minutes ago. He smirked as he continued teasing, “You know, it’s not my fault the audience loves it when you scream.”

And just like that, Fernando’s cheeks immediately turned into a bright shade of red.

“No, they don’t,” Fernando tried to retort back just as casually, but it ended up sounding like a petulant whine. He grabbed his brush and just started combing his hair obsessively, the way he always did when he was thrown off.

Dan’s smirk grew even wider. “Oh, yes, they do. I see them jacking off, Fernando. They tug just a little bit harder when you moan like you’re in pain.”

Fernando’s brush slipped from his sweaty fingers. It landed on the dresser surface with a pitiful clatter. His head spun around to look at Dan head-on, glaring accusatorily. “Stop it.”

Dan blinked innocently. “Stop what?”

“Stop making me feel uncomfortable about sex!” Fernando cried out.

But, Dan was unaffected; he just revelled in it – the harried tone to Fernando’s usually measured timbre, the look of moral indignation in his normally calm demeanour. He loved seeing him raw, stripped of the thick layers of caution and care. So he didn’t stop taunting.

“Fernando, we have sex with each other every night” – the Spaniard opened his mouth to protest, but Dan only spoke louder – “ _For money_.”

A pregnant silence hung in the air and Dan’s footsteps were but a slight scuffle on the old carpet as he crossed the distance between them in a couple of strides. He stood right behind the Spaniard, resting his hands on Fernando’s tensing shoulders and massaging the muscles lightly, teasingly.

Fernando glowered at him through their reflection in the mirror as Dan spoke again, “Nothing should be able to make you feel uncomfortable about sex anymore.”

Finally, Fernando snapped, shrugging Daniel’s hands off him.

“I am _not_ comfortable about sex,” he said testily, the skin on his cheeks becoming blotchy and Daniel swore he looked like he was ready to explode.

Fernando jumped to his feet and faced Dan, absolutely livid, “I don’t want to be comfortable with sex.”

Dan didn’t flinch. He just ran the tip of his finger over the bridge of Fernando’s nose then flicked the tip patronisingly, “Except with me.”

Fernando swatted the Dane’s hand from his face, temper running thin and half-screaming, “Don’t touch me!”

But Dan just grinned provokingly. He dipped his head so he could whisper right into Fernando’s ear: “That’s not what you said last night.”

The Spaniard put all his strength behind pushing Dan away, and Dan actually stumbled back a few steps. Fernando’s eyes were bright with resentment and his lip was quivering dangerously.

“Stay away from me,” he said warningly, trying to control his breathing and keep it even.

But Dan never knew when to stop, and even when he did, he still pushed the envelope.

“Why?” he challenged, his tone firm and probing, and Fernando knew he wasn’t just asking about now. He was asking about all the times Fernando looked away when Dan tried to kiss him or flinched when the Dane’s touch lingered too long.

“Because I don’t want this,” Fernando said quietly, and he wondered if that sentence would ever start meaning something if he kept repeating it out loud.

The thing about denial, though, is that if you’re good at it, you start fooling even yourself.

A cruel sneer distorted the sprinkle of freckles on Dan’s face. He shook his head, somewhat heavily, somewhat resigned. “You could’ve fooled me.”

Then, they both took a step back and stepped away, like two boxers retreating to opposite corners, licking their wounds after a bloodied bout.

Fernando sank down tiredly to his seat in front of the dressing room mirror again, and Daniel stomped out, grabbing his cigarettes and his lighter along the way, slamming the door loudly behind him.

This was the end of the round.

*

“What are you doing here?” Xabi asked under his breath. At the rate everyone was crowding into the room, the entire city would know what they would be talking about if he wasn’t careful.

Stevie only gave him an indifferent half-shrug, eyes still scanning the place curiously. “You know why.”

“We pay our monthly dues to you and your superiors regularly. A surprise check-up by a plainclothes policeman was not part of the deal.”

Stevie glanced at the Spaniard. He really was very straight to the point. “Well, the stakes have changed.”

Xabi’s eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. “What do you mean?”

The Scouser rubbed at his chin. “We have a new boss in the department. All your old friends in the force were booted out and he brought in his own staff.”

A deep furrow formed between Xabi’s eyebrows – a sure sign of contempt for a man so placid, expressionless. “Go on.”

Stevie gave him a steely smile. “And Chief Inspector Benitez is big on this whole indecency and immorality issue. Wants us officers to start cleaning up downtown and the docks was his priority.”

Stevie didn’t even have to continue for Xabi to feel like he was socked straight in the stomach.

“Sorry, Alonso, but your place is at the top of the list.”

And of course, the Scouser didn’t look the least bit apologetic. In fact, he looked like what Xabi knew him to be – an overworked, underpaid policeman eager to get a promotion by catching his first big fish.

Stevie leaned back in satisfaction. He’s calculated this risk. It wasn’t always wise to go against Xabi Alonso. But that was when he was only rank and file in Scotland Yard. If he could get a salary raise by closing down one of the city’s most infamous prostitution dens, then he wouldn’t need to feed off of the Spaniard’s bribe money.

It was a pity – he did enjoy frequenting this place.

“So, why aren’t you closing me down yet?” Xabi asked boldly. He learned a long time ago that with policemen, the only thing they had to show for themselves was their badge and their balls.

“Maybe later,” Stevie answered with a shrug, a leering glint in his eyes. “I hear this place puts on a good show.”


	2. Willing

A knock came at the door, and Xabi swept into the room with this imposing manner that Fernando still wasn’t used to until now. Fernando instinctively glanced at his watch. 11:45 PM. The boss was right on time, as he was every night. And as with routine, Xabi said what he always said when he came to visit his wards, “Fifteen minutes until the show, lads. Get yourselves ready.”

Only this time, Fernando was the only one in the room, looking up at Xabi blankly.

“Where’s Daniel?”

Fernando shrugged listlessly, and Xabi’s eyebrows knitted together, “He’s supposed to be here.”

Fernando sighed, feeling worn out already. “I think he just went out to smoke.”

“Well, call him in already.”

Fernando bit his lip and took a deep breath, “Xabi, listen – maybe... maybe I don’t want to work with Daniel anymore.”

Xabi threw his hands up in the air in exasperation, and Fernando’s heartbeat quickened. The Basque looked like he was a bit on edge today.

“What happened now?” Xabi demanded. His voice was still calm, but his words sounded tight.

Fernando treaded in carefully, “We just got into a fight, and...”

“You always fight.”

“And it’s the same fight all over again. Maybe it’s come to the point where we can’t reconcile our differences and we just have to go our separate ways,” Fernando squeaked, not comfortable with the way Xabi’s fists were clenched at his sides. The boss was _definitely_ on edge today.

“Look, I’m not asking both of you to like each other as people.” Xabi stalked to the closet and threw the bathrobe at Fernando unceremoniously. “I just need both of you to get naked, fuck each other and make a room full of people happy, understood?”

“But,” Fernando struggled to reason out.

“No buts!” Xabi put his hands on his hips and his face was stern and suddenly, Fernando just felt ashamed. “We tried looking for a new partner for you. You didn’t like anyone else. Unless you have another idea up your sleeve, I suggest you drop this issue altogether.”

Fernando frowned, but he just slid down his chair wordlessly. He couldn’t argue with Xabi there. He let his fingers run over the rough material of the terrycloth robe, before sighing and standing up.

“I’ll just get changed then.”

Xabi rubbed his temples and nodded. “Good boy.”

Fernando padded out quietly, a dog with his tail between his legs. Xabi sat down on the seat the younger Spaniard just vacated and waited. Not soon after, someone else entered the room. Daniel was the complete opposite of Fernando of course, throwing the door open until it almost flew off its hinges and it banged against the wall. His boots tracked mud on the industrial carpet and he threw his crumpled cigarette pack over his shoulder carelessly.

“Daniel.” Xabi said flatly, and only he could get the Dane to suddenly straighten up in attention and stop in his tracks.

“Xabi, hey.”

“I heard you and Fernando got into another argument,” Xabi replied curtly.

“Yeah, so what else is new?” Dan joked dryly, fishing for some mint gum in his pocket then popping it in his mouth.

Xabi put his hands on his hips – sometimes he really did feel like a father scolding his children. And if he knew them right, he was probably the closest to a parent most of them had.

“I told you. You should stop trying to make him feel bad – “

“That he’s a prude?” Dan finished for Xabi, scowling.

The older man sighed and relented, “...Yes.”

“See?” Dan retorted. He marched to the closet, speaking spitefully along the way. “Don’t you just hate it when Fernando acts like he’s above all of this? That he can’t imaginably accept that he’s a whore?” 

“Daniel!” Xabi tutted.

The Dane only pretended not to hear him by rummaging inside the cabinet, looking for his own robe. He continued, voice dripping with sarcasm, “I have nothing against Fernando if he wants to prance around preaching the Word of God and if he starts reading out Bible scriptures to harlots and if he insists on wearing that, that...” Dan’s nose wrinkled in annoyance, “gay pink rosary around his neck.”

Xabi reasoned out. “Stop exaggerating, Agger. The boy’s just terribly shy.”

Dan emerged from the closet, whipping off his shirt and crumpling it irritably into a tiny ball, “Whatever it is, for crying out loud, Xabi, if there’s anything I _despise_ , it’s when people pretend. And I don’t know why Fernando acts like he’s some saint when I know for fact that he enjoys it when I fuck him.” He shook his head in disgust, stopping for a rare moment as he let his own words sink in. “ _Christ fuck_ , I know he enjoys it when I fuck him.”

“Almost as much as _you_ enjoy it, I assume?” Xabi didn’t even have to raise his eyebrow all the way, seeing right through the Dane’s intentions.

Dan grinned dangerously. “I savour every minute of it.”

Fernando walked in, now changed into his robe, his clothes neatly folded under his arm. “Savour every minute of what?” He asked innocently.

Before Xabi could give a more diplomatic answer, the Dane had already bared his teeth in a snarl. “I said I savour every minute of plowing my cock into your ass.”

Fernando’s eyes widened and he was stunned for a full moment. Xabi shot the youngest boy a dagger look – he always was uncontrollable. The Dane only stared back at both Spaniards defiantly. He flipped open the button of his jeans in front of Fernando and pulled his trousers down his legs pointedly. Fernando looked away.

“Put your robe on,” Xabi ordered exasperatedly, standing up. Dan obliged, but he didn’t take his gaze away from Fernando the entire time. The Basque continued, “I’ll see you guys outside in five minutes.” And with that, their boss left, refusing to deal with the two any longer. He had bigger problems.

Meanwhile, whatever calm Fernando had regained when Dan took a cigarette break was absolutely gone.

“What are you trying to prove?” He demanded, trying but failing to keep his voice down. Xabi was just right outside in the hallway, and the walls here were paper-thin.

Dan nonchalantly shrugged on his robe and wrapped it around himself. Then, he reached under the heavy garment and tugged down his briefs.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Dan answered, petulantly throwing his underwear at Fernando’s face. The Spaniard couldn’t duck in time, and it him square on the face. Fernando blindly reached up to wrench it off of him and threw it aside. In a flash, he was lunging for Daniel, and the Dane was just about able to half-grapple him in return. They grunted as they tussled with each other, Fernando yelling in mangled Spanish as he scratched at whatever part of Dan he could reach. But Dan was taller, and he deftly twisted the Spaniard’s arm behind his back, applying a little more force than was necessary. Fernando tried to free himself, groaning in pain, but Dan only tightened his grip around his wrists even more.

“Let me go!” Fernando half-yelled, but Dan quickly muffled it with a furious kiss. Dan didn’t bother with affection or care this time. He practically swallowed the Spaniard’s thin lips in his mouth as he sucked and bit hungrily. Fernando was only able to tear away, but not without a bloody cut on his bottom lip. Dan leaned in to lick it off, but Fernando struggled, thrashing about as much as he could in Dan’s arms. In between his legs, he felt Dan’s member starting to harden, stirring against his own.

“This is wrong,” he answered half-heartedly, trying to catch his breath.

Dan sneered. “Really? And who told you that?” He reached up to yank Fernando’s rosary from under the collar of his bathrobe. “ _Your God_?” He spat condescendingly, tugging at the beads in emphasis. Fernando stopped fighting back, thinking of the delicate chain of the rosary he didn’t want to break. He settled with glaring at Dan murderously, and Dan pushed him away in disbelief.

“Well, he knows shit-all.” Dan spat, turning to leave.

Fernando didn’t reply, massaging his arms and wrists from the younger boy’s bruising grip. He watched apprehensively as Dan halted by the exit, one hand on the doorknob and glowering at him. He said menacingly, “Take that thing off before you go out.”

*

It wasn’t easy for Xabi to focus on the show when Stevie sat next to him, muttering little snide remarks in an effort to pretend he wasn’t turned on or horny.

“Those two lads don’t even look English. Are they illegal immigrants? Do they have documents?” Stevie pressed, his gaze not leaving Daniel and Fernando for a second.

Xabi answered dully, “I have their working permits and their visas, if you really care to know.”

“And that blonde one. He doesn’t even look like he’s of age. Seventeen, hmm? Or 18?”

“He’s 25, actually.” Xabi said, rolling his eyes. “And Daniel’s the younger one of the two of them.”

Stevie glared at him, “Kept against their will?”

Xabi’s jaw dropped – he didn’t know if those were even real questions because they were too absurd. “No!”

“Right.”

Xabi very rarely lost his temper at work, if not ever at all. The last time he did was a good six months ago when Daniel didn’t show up for a mandatory health check-up because he “didn’t give a flying fuck what those pee sticks will tell me.”

Tonight, he came very close to blowing his top off again. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from lashing out, but he couldn’t stifle the exasperation from his tone. He snapped, “Do those two look like they’re being kept against their will?”

And of all the times that they went through this routine, it must have been the wrong night for Xabi to ask that question because as the words left his mouth, they both turned towards the bed in the centre of the room. The two boys stood on either side of it, facing each other. And they didn’t look very happy to be there.

*

Daniel saw Xabi’s horrified expression from just above Fernando’s shoulder and he relented. He started undoing the loose knot on his bathrobe and easily discarded it over his shoulders. In a second, he was completely naked. He heard a subtle yet collective intake of breath. No matter who entered this room, no matter how many times they’ve watched a live show in their lives, the first stab still always drew the most blood.

Dan glanced at Fernando expectedly. He was supposed to strip down too. Then, crudely speaking, they would have to get on the bed, make out, fuck then clean each other up as obscenely as possible. It was pretty easy once you got the hang of it. Formulaic, even. But the Spaniard just stood there, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Dan stubbornly.

This was probably shaping up to be the worst night of Xabi’s life.

Dan rounded the bed and came up behind Fernando.

“Hey,” he whispered tentatively in the boy’s ear. Fernando didn’t respond. He didn’t even flinch. Daniel glanced at Xabi unsurely, and the Basque prodded him to go on. “Improvise,” he mouthed from a few metres away.

“Motherfucking hell, don’t act like a prima donna on me now!” Daniel wanted to say, but he knew he couldn’t afford to antagonise Fernando even more. Instead, he reached around the Spaniard and ran his hands comfortingly over his arms.

“Are you okay?” He asked softly.

Fernando looked up and Dan wondered what that was brewing behind his gaze. It resembled uncertainty. Or surrender. But Fernando’s eyes were a hazy mix of brown and green, and Daniel could never really tell what they were trying to say.

“I’m not supposed to...” Fernando began before trailing off, almost as if he was embarrassed of himself.

_Want this?_

But Dan would never know whatever Fernando was not supposed to do. He let his hands drift over to the knot in Fernando’s bathrobe, and he instantly felt Fernando’s hands on his – grip hesitant, ready to hold him back from going any further. Dan stepped closer to Fernando until he felt the coarse cloth of the robe scratch into the bare skin of his chest. He murmured into the Spaniard’s hair:

“If God wanted us to be good, he wouldn’t have made us so imperfect.”

Fernando’s fingertips stopped digging into Daniel’s palm. Like the only thing he was waiting for was validation, support. And then he was letting Dan bring down his defences for one more night.

Dan let Fernando’s robe fall between their bodies, and suddenly there was nothing between them anymore and Dan could feel the shivers running up Fernando’s spine – maybe it was because of the sudden blast of cold air meeting bare skin, maybe it was because of the ease at which Dan had exposed him.

Dan kissed at the skin of Fernando’s nape, hot breath blowing over goosebumps as he whispered, “I’m sorry. For making you do this.”

Dan didn’t really know if he was in a position to apologise, but Dan never really waited for certainty. Fernando did though, and Dan realised that as the Spaniard spun in his arms to face him, scrutinising Dan’s expression thoroughly for a sign that he meant what he said.

Dan gazed at the cut on Fernando’s lip and winced just remembering how it felt, biting at the flesh and tasting the blood. He gingerly raised his hand to touch it, but Fernando flinched before he even could. Dan frowned. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was all just a mistake of misplaced anger.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

A while ago, he was certain he was genuinely furious at Fernando. He had every reason to, just as he knew he did for every instance they fought. That was why he was an unrepentant son of a bitch.

But right now, as the boy stood in front of him, no rosary on his neck, no protest on his lips, nothing more but wide and trusting eyes and hands clasped reliantly around Dan’s shoulders, Dan willingly put those reasons to rest. If Fernando could give in, maybe he could to – even if just for tonight.

*

“Improvise,” Xabi had instructed Daniel when their eyes met and Fernando was refusing to cooperate. What Xabi didn’t expect, though, was for the two to veer completely off-course. It was ten minutes into the show now. They were supposed to be sucking each other off, or something. Anything. Anything to keep the audience thinking that their money was worth a gratuitous sexual act.

Now, though, they were still half-cuddling and half-murmuring to themselves. In any case, they were both naked. Xabi looked around to check at the people for any signs of impatience - briefly, he entertained the possibility of having to refund a full house. But they were all just shamelessly ogling the two nubile forms. 

However, Stevie wasn’t fooled. He elbowed Xabi and didn’t even bother lowering his voice. “What’s going on?”

Xabi glared at him to signal him to quiet down. But in front, Dan moved already. He went around Fernando and lay down on the bed first, making sure he supported himself on his elbows so the people could still see him and his bare body. Xabi sighed thankfully. It was late, but at least they were back on track again: Fernando would climb in bed in between Daniel’s long, muscled legs and take the cock into his mouth.

“This is all part of the script,” Xabi answered back, trying to sound bored instead of relieved.

Until Daniel grabbed Fernando by the arms instead, yanking him upwards roughly to kiss him. Fernando yelped in surprise but melted right into the liplock. They weren’t even groping each other, thrusting against each other. Neither of them even remembered to angle their bodies so everyone could still see at least their hot, young cocks. They were just kissing, fingers running through each other’s hair, cupping cheeks and whimpering contentedly.

“Really?” Stevie asked with an undignified snort, but his eyes were still trained on the two. He was not a fan of foreplay, but there was something intriguing in the way the two boys were rapt with one another. It wasn’t porn, sure, but sometimes, erotica was just as good.

Xabi’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “Okay, maybe not.”

Stevie glanced at the Basque, eyebrow raised, a rare amused smile on his face. “Really?”

Xabi didn’t reply, but he caught that grin. He kept on watching the show wordlessly, but inside, he felt a tiny bit more at ease, even if it was with the most unlikely of companions.

There was some progress. Their hands had somehow worked their way in between their bodies and it looked like they were jacking off each other. Fernando had the presence of mind to shift his body so everyone could see what they were doing. Dan lined up their cocks and rubbed them together. Xabi was sure when Dan and Fernando moaned, a lot of other people in the room moaned along with them.

Fernando moved down Dan’s body and started licking at Dan’s shaft, nursing it quickly into hardness. Xabi’s watched this a thousand times, but nothing turned him on more than the image of cock disappearing into a waiting mouth. It was just... disconcertingly beautiful. Fernando was always the more passive one of the two, but right now, he had Dan at his every beck and call with every lap of his tongue on the swollen flesh. Dan squirmed helplessly under him, his body writhing on the bed, the sheets sticking to his sweaty back.

The Spaniard stretched back up to let Dan taste himself on his lips. He eagerly sucked at the tongue Fernando offered. Slowly trying to regain control of the situation, he planted his hands on either side of Fernando’s hips and held him down. Then, Dan thrust up, letting his slickened dick slide into the cleavage of Fernando’s ass. Fernando broke away into the kiss to moan loudly against Dan’s shoulder. Even just by judging the way Fernando’s eyes wedged shut, Xabi could already imagine the wet friction rubbing along the blonde’s entrance.

“More,” Fernando gasped to himself, to Dan, to Xabi and Stevie and every other person in the room. And Dan began thrusting his hips up, rhythmically pressing his erection alongside Fernando’s crack. Fernando rocked on top of the Dane in return, ignoring the pain of Dan’s nails digging harshly into the flesh of his ass as he grabbed the cheeks greedily.

Xabi cast a sidelong glance at Stevie – he was quiet now and perfectly still. The Basque saw how his fists were clenched on his lap, his legs crossed tightly to keep the bulge in his pants from being noticed.

“Are you alright?” Xabi asked, daring to let his hand drift onto Stevie’s thigh.

The Scouser practically jumped in his seat, his eyes darting immediately to his lap.

“I’m fine,” Stevie almost barked, but his stare faithfully followed the way Xabi’s hand slipped carelessly toward his inner thigh.

“Hmm.” Xabi said, nodding slowly, pinching at the hard, muscled flesh of Stevie’s leg. Finally, Stevie jerked violently to get Xabi’s grip off him. He crossed his legs again, tighter now and more constrained, keeping his limbs to his body as much as he could.

“I still think that blonde boy’s underage,” Stevie snapped defensively. He glared at Xabi one last time before returning to the show.


	3. He doesn't look a thing like Jesus

We return to the basement of a forgotten, nearly-bankrupt Chinese take-away by the far side of the Liverpool docks. It’s only a narrow corridor with plaster for walls and the green paint is peeling off it pitifully.

There are many doors in the corridor. Some are lounges and dressing rooms for the employees. Most are private rooms for customers and their chosen escorts for the night. A room at one end of the corridor is Xabi Alonso’s office – it’s where it’s quietest in the basement. On the other end, however, is where the long line of people is snaking out of. Another good dozen men and women are already inside, seated on old monoblock chairs arranged in crooked lines around a bed in the centre of the room. That was where the live show was held, three nights a week, double shows on weekends, £100 a head – and no, not _that kind_ of head.

Fernando was still straddling Dan as he watched him reach up to grab the lube from underneath the pillow – he loved the way Dan’s torso extended, the tattooed characters on his side stretching to distortion. He placed a kiss on each of the tattoos, working his way up, then placed a soft peck on Dan’s lips.

“You don’t have to prepare me so much,” he murmured against Dan’s cheek, looking up in time to see Dan’s eyes widen in surprise. By that time, Dan’s dick was completely stiff and purple.

Provoking him further, he brought Dan’s two fingers to his mouth and let his saliva coat it thickly. He sucked on every digit. Hard. His tongue even massaged at the soft, sensitive skin between the fingers, until he felt Dan’s wrist twitching in his grasp. His heavy gaze didn’t leave the Dane’s as he pulled out the digits slowly from his mouth, stopping briefly with every knuckle that his teeth grazed over.

Dan stared at his fingers in awe – they were wet and shining in the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. The tube of lube fell from his free hand, landing soundlessly on the bed before it bounced on the floor. No need for that now, then.

Fernando guided Dan’s hand behind him to get his attention.

“I actually only need one,” he said, pushing Dan’s middle finger into the pucker of his ass. He didn’t know he groaned first – Dan who couldn’t believe his eyes or Fernando who welcomed the intrusion.

“Just this one?” Dan asked, struggling to get up to pace. He wriggled his middle finger inside the cavern of Fernando’s ass tantalizingly, moved it in little circles before reaching in as deep as he could.

“Yesss, ngh,” Fernando whimpered, “It’s not like this is my first time, you know.” He smiled weakly, but his eyelids drooped and his eyes were half-rolling to the back of his head as he pushed back against Dan’s hand impatiently.

Dan started to sit up so he could push Fernando on his back and top him, but the Spaniard suddenly grabbed his shoulders –

“Wait.”

Dan blinked in confusion, and Fernando couldn’t blame him, but he didn’t allow himself to think twice anymore. He just followed his instincts and his instincts told him to pin Dan back against the headboard. Dan gasped in surprise and for a full moment, he just sat there, frozen. That was all Fernando needed to straddle him again, taking Dan’s cock in one hand and pushing his own butt cheeks apart with another.

“A-are you sure?” Dan asked worriedly and Fernando had to wonder when Dan became the hesitant one and he became the leader. He didn’t know exactly at what part of tonight he changed gears. He didn’t even know why. But the power coursing through his fingers, the excitement churning in his groin, the anticipation of impaling himself on Dan’s throbbing member...

Outside this room, he was a careful, cautious Fernando. Always a step behind everyone else’s, thinking long and hard before he leapt. And he never leapt.

But in here, they were just two boys and a rusty bed and sheets that have gotten frayed from too many washings. In here, he was somebody else. And sometimes it felt good to let go.

*

Stevie couldn’t tell if his mouth was open in bewilderment – his body felt numb from his head to his toe, and the only thing that had any sensation to it really was his groin. He watched the blonde boy slowly lower himself on the brunette’s throbbing cock. And the brunette was by no means small.

“Danny...” the blonde moaned breathily as he pushed down further. It was but a bare, uncontrollable whisper, but the room was eerily quiet so it felt like it blew right against Stevie’s ear.

“Oh, god,” he choked. Fernando stopped with about two inches left, trying to catch his breath, gasping for more air. Stevie saw Dan lick at Fernando’s constricting throat, coaxing sweetly: “Come on, baby.”

“Those two can’t just be friends, right?” Stevie coughed, struggling to keep his voice level and even.

Xabi sounded bemused when he answered, drawling to himself, “I wouldn’t know. I wouldn’t understand if I tried. I’m just their manager.” He threw Stevie a suspicious side-glance, “Why?”

Stevie shook his head. He just kept his gaze straight ahead, watching as Dan put his hands on either side of Fernando’s hips to keep him steady and stop him from moving. Then, in a flash, he thrust upwards, unexpectedly impaling Fernando with the last few inches of his cock, until the pale, blonde boy was sitting in shivering heap by the base of Dan’s hard-on.

Fernando groaned hoarsely, head dropping on Dan’s shoulder.

“Ride my cock,” Dan was saying and it took the words right out of Stevie’s mouth. Fernando obediently writhed on top of Dan, his hips moving backwards and forwards in a rhythm that was ultimately hypnotic. Stevie’s never rode a cock before, so he didn’t know how it would feel, but looking at how Fernando reacted now, it must feel really good. The blonde’s hands ran wildly – over Dan’s toned chest, through Dan’s short hair, clawing at Dan’s tattoos, grasping at his own nipples, gripping at his own cock. Like he was in heat and he couldn’t contain himself.

Stevie shifted in his seat, grabbing his sports coat from the back of his chair and draping it over his lap. He couldn’t take it anymore. His hand dove underneath the jacket and he started massaging his crotch discreetly.

Xabi glanced at Stevie’s lap, unimpressed at his coverage.

On the bed, Fernando bounced rapidly on Dan’s thrusting hips, head lolling back in delirium. Dan watched him with this hungry, feral glint in his eyes, hands a vice-like grip on Fernando’s cock. Xabi breathed in deeply, taking in the heady scent of arousal drenching the room.

Stevie croaked out as sternly as he could, “That boy’s disrespecting himself.”

Xabi turned to him and smiled coldly. “And they look good doing it, don’t you think?”

The cop didn’t reply, but his hand moved more frantically under his coat now. Xabi didn’t peek, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Stevie’s cock was out now. No way could that erection be contained in those pants without being too painful.

And like a cat playing with a trapped mouse, Xabi bared his claws even more. He signalled to Dan – it wasn’t easy because the boy was just always too rapt when he was fucking. But somewhere in between resting his head on the headboard and catching his breath, Dan noticed Xabi staring at him, trying to get his attention.

Dan’s eyebrows raised questioningly, although understandably looking rather distracted.

Xabi twirled his finger in the air.

Dan nodded.

He put his hands on Fernando’s waist, attempting to slow him down. The Spaniard didn’t respond until a few seconds after, confused and irritated and just wanting more friction now, please. Dan just nodded in Xabi’s direction and mouthed a few words close to Fernando’s ear. Fernando nodded and, without letting Dan pull out his cock from his ass, twisted his body around so he could ride the Dane while facing the audience.

“Oh, for the love of God...” Stevie muttered under his breath but he was sure the lads to his left, his front and his back hear it and probably thought the same thing. On his right, however, Xabi just smiled serenely, pretending like this wasn’t his doing.

Stevie let his fist wrap tightly around the base of his cock in a futile attempt to calm himself down. Fernando’s dick was poking straight at them – erect and leaking pre-cum down his thighs like a fucking broken faucet. If Stevie didn’t control himself now – he pinched the base of his cock even harder – he was going to blow his load soon.

Fernando rode Daniel even harder now, rode him like a fucking stallion, until Stevie was sure the Spaniard’s wiry body was going to break in half. Fernando’s eyes combing the room, drinking in the way they all watched him. He had scanned one end of the room to the other already, when he stopped somewhere front and centre. To where his boss sat. And beside Xabi, Stevie. Fernando was looking at Stevie.

The Spaniard licked his lips and you knew he was trying to be as obscene as possible. Then his wet lips twisted into a scheming, devilish pout, twinkling eyes darting from his own cock to Stevie’s crotch. Fernando raised his eyebrows at Stevie meaningfully.

Stevie gaped, “M-me?” He mouthed dumbly, and he was sure Xabi heard him stuttering like a bumbling fool. Fernando didn’t nod or shake his head. He just leaned back against Daniel and rocked more violently on top him, thrusting his hips back and forth and groaning, “Fuck! Yes! Fuck me! Harder!”

Suddenly, a wet, hot breath blew against Stevie’s air and instinctively, the hair at the back of his neck just stood up.

“Do you know why boys like those are called jailbait, Stevie?” Xabi taunted slowly in his ear, enunciating every word until Stevie could imagine the way the Basque’s tongue flickered in his mouth.

This wasn’t helping his erection. This was all not helping his erection one bloody bit.

“It’s because you’re thrown to jail if you insomuch as _wank_ about touching them.”

Stevie wouldn’t have been able to respond if he tried. Xabi, Dan, Fernando – the sensations overwhelmed him, and the only way he could hold on to his last shred of control was to ball his hands into tight, tight fists until his nails were digging in his palms.

Xabi laughed sardonically in his ear again, and Stevie swore he was like a fucking devil on his shoulder.

“Looks like if you clean me out, I can drag you down with me, Inspector.”

And then, Stevie came weakly in his pants.

*

Dan noticed the change in Fernando – the boy exerted himself more, made his little love noises more throaty. He followed Fernando’s gaze and found that it was fixed heavily on only one face in the crowd.

The lad was sitting beside Xabi that’s why he was recognisable, but he also stood out in his stiff polo shirt buttoned all the way to his chin and his impeccably knotted tie. He had a dour face and a frowning mouth. But his eyes were grey and staring only at Fernando. Like he wanted to devour him and Fernando was offering himself up on a platter.

The jealous snarl he let out was louder than he expected. He felt Fernando falter slightly at the sound, like he had been caught doing something wrong. And that admission made Dan even angrier.

With a harsh yank, he tugged at Fernando’s hair to make the Spaniard face him. Fernando’s eyes widened at the possessed, furious rage in Dan’s expression – then, the Dane crashed their mouths together violently.

He kissed Fernando in the most overwhelming way he could, diving in deeply until he knew Fernando’s lips would be swollen, dominating so thoroughly until Fernando couldn’t possibly slip his tongue in Dan’s mouth and all he could do was tilt his head back and let Dan practically drink from his mouth. And they were kissing too much, too hard for too long, Fernando couldn’t breathe anymore, but Dan still wouldn’t let him tear away until Fernando was thrashing against him, scratching his arms in panic.

Dan finally broke away from Fernando, but before the Spaniard could catch his breath, Dan was already flipping them around until Fernando was on wobbly knees and shaking hands mounted on the bed. He harshly planted his hand on Fernando’s back and pushed him down on the bed so that only his butt was in the air.

Fernando let out a small whimper and to Dan’s ears, it really didn’t sound all that troubled. It could even have been lusty. But when Dan was mad, he was stark-raving mad, and it surrounded his mind like a thick layer of fuzz, obscuring one thought to another. So, he could be wrong and for all he knew, Fernando could really have been crying. But they weren’t in a position to negotiate now. Fernando was calling the shots earlier and this time, it was Dan’s turn.

Lining up his more than throbbing cock against the reddened pucker, he slathered on a thick layer of lube from the discarded tube on the bed – just in case. God knew he wasn’t going to be gentle now.


	4. But he looks like a gentleman

This was the most violent Xabi had seen them fuck. The bed rocked under their movements, and its creaking was rhythmic, and it rang in Xabi’s ears almost annoyingly.

It wasn’t easy to look for boys who could perform a live show. Their sex didn’t just have to be good. It had to be fervent, consuming you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes and possessing every fibre of your being, so much so that you don’t even notice the audience. You don’t even notice the audience _every night_.

He maybe expected Dan to be wild in bed. He didn’t expect Fernando to be at all. But when they took the stage together, they both made a show that was more than the sum of its parts, Xabi still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that so much hormones could have come from those scrawny, nubile bodies. Their sex was erratic, uncontrollable and unpredictable. Even the regulars still had room to be surprised.

He didn’t know if those two loved each other, but they definitely fucked like they did.

And Fernando was a good kid. He invested all his wages into his tuition fees. Whatever was left, he sent back to his family in Madrid who thought Fernando was on a college scholarship. He went to mass on Sunday mornings and on bad days, even went to confession straight from work. Xabi always wondered if there ever was absolution for people who sold their souls to the devil.

Daniel was... well, he could be an okay lad if he tried. More often than not, trouble followed him around though. Or he invited it in, with his hands smelling of spliff all the time and that cheeky grin of his. His temper was short enough as it is, but it was definitely shorter whenever Fernando was concerned. Dan probably broke Fernando’s heart more than he should, but we always hurt the ones we shouldn’t.

“I want that boy.”

Xabi blinked slowly and turned his gaze toward Stevie. “Excuse me?”

There was a sheen of sweat on Stevie’s forehead and his tone was a little more crazed now. “Fernando. I want him.”

Xabi just returned to the show and answered flatly. “You can’t.”

“What? Why not?”

“They’re not for sale. If you want someone to fuck, we have an array of boys and girls in the other room. These two just fuck each other – those were the terms of our contract.”

“Oh, you have some nerve talking about contracts as if this place were legit.” Stevie spat. His hands were out of his crotch now, but his jacket was still draped over it.

“And you have some right barging into this place asking to close it down when you’re preying over my boys yourself,” Xabi answered back coolly. He enjoyed being the more mature, sensible one out of them.

Stevie grabbed Xabi’s arm and said with gritted teeth, “Look, if you don’t give me that lad, I may go home with a pair of blue balls, but you, I’m shutting you down.”

“This is blackmail,” Xabi accused softly, his eyes narrowed into daggers.

“You don’t tell anyone about it, I won’t tell Chief Inspector Benitez that your prostitution ring is still in operation.”

Xabi sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. He stared at the direction of Dan and Fernando on the bed, their cries ringing in his head hollowly. He glanced back at Stevie who was watching him expectantly.

“Let’s go to my office.”

*

Dan pistoned in and out of Nando as hard as he could. His sides were aching from the rapid movement of his hips, but he kept going like a man deranged. The obscene sound of skin slapping against wet skin marked the staccato pattern Dan used to thrust in and out of the Spaniard. Below him, Fernando swayed to Dan’s every movement, his body having no choice but to follow Dan’s bruising rhythm.

Fernando’s shoulders were sagging and his back was curved lazily already. His head was dropped and it lolled from side to side as they rocked, his hair an unkempt curtain around his face. But his fists were clenched tightly around the bed sheets and his knees were planted a foot from the other, partly for greater stability, partly for easier access. During the split-seconds that Dan did dare to slow down, he could feel Fernando moving back against him, seeking out that same tempo.

If Dan knew Fernando he would think the boy was enjoying. But he didn’t know him and half the time, he always was just guessing and, most of the time, really just guessing wrong.

Dan didn’t understand Fernando’s body language and that made him even more furious. He bent down when Fernando threw his head back, swooping in and biting at the creamy flesh. He bit hard, he couldn’t stop himself. The adrenaline was pumping heavily in his veins and Fernando’s neck curved gracefully. Fernando’s scream was so loud, so ragged, so lustful, Dan’s cock twitched even harder as he was sure every other man’s cock in the room did.

Pulling out for a moment, Dan reached around the Spaniard, gripping around his torso and flipped him on his back. The sudden lift and drop shook Fernando out of his trance, and for a few seconds, he was just blinking and watching Dan questioningly. Apprehensively.

Dan gritted his teeth and bent over Fernando, cupping his damp cheek in his palm. Did Fernando want Dan to treat him even more roughly? Did he want to enjoy it or did he want Dan to stop? Did he want Dan at all?

“What?” Dan demanded, soft enough so that no one could hear but edged enough so that Fernando had no choice but to listen. “What do you want from me?”

Fernando gazed at him intently, just studied Dan’s contorted face and the words that had just fallen from his lips. Dan could see the moisture pooling at the crinkled corners of Fernando’s eyes. He didn’t know if it was sweat or tears, but he reached up to wipe it away with his thumb anyway.

Fernando raised his arms and draped it on the bed above his head, wrists crossed over each other as if bound. Then, he just closed his eyes and smiled faintly. He was just a picture of patient, serene anticipation and... and utter devotion. And that, that may have made Dan’s stomach flutter, but scared the shitload out of him as well.

Dan slipped into him slowly that time, cradling Fernando’s butt as he pulled the Spaniard to his body just as much as he pushed his cock into the crack. Fernando wrapped his legs around Dan’s torso obediently, tilting his hips up so that the Dane could penetrate even deeper. 

And even as Dan was pulling almost all the way out, leaving only the head of his cock inside Fernando, then slicing back in him with clean strokes, and even as Fernando was completely, wholly and absolutely submitting himself to him, Dan didn’t understand why he felt he was the one being taken tonight.

*

Xabi opened the door for Stevie and the cop smoothly swept into the office as if it were his. He walked around, deliberately taking in the furnishings. Xabi shut the door and locked it, before crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Not bad,” Stevie said, lifting the bottle of champagne from the bucket and inspecting the label. The place was a shit-hole, no kidding about it, but Xabi’s office was pretty good. Better than Stevie’s suffocating cubicle down at the police station, for sure.

“I have guests sometimes,” Xabi answered, taking the bottle from Stevie and returning it back into the bucket of ice.

Stevie scoffed, taking a champagne glass and waving it in front of Xabi. “Don’t I count as a guest?”

Xabi raised an eyebrow. “No, you count as a nuisance.” Nevertheless, he reached for the corkscrew and opened the bottle with a fragrant pop. As much as Steven Gerrard was a nuisance, he was a nuisance he couldn’t afford to push aside. He poured the golden liquid expertly into Stevie’s glass, filling it halfway.

Stevie tutted above him and nodded, “More.”

Xabi rolled his eyes and poured even more champagne until the liquid sloshed dangerously close to the brim of the glass. Only then did Stevie smile.

“Your lucky Sergeant Carragher wasn’t the one assigned to this zone. He wouldn’t be willing to negotiate.”

Xabi practically thrust the champagne bottle into the bucket in frustration. “What are your terms?”

Stevie set his glass on Xabi’s desk and Xabi was already getting frustrated because that was going to leave a water ring on the varnish. Until, of course, Stevie plopped down on Xabi’s desk chair arrogantly and settled in with a pleased grin on his impish face.

“I want a ten percent increase on your monthly pay and that boy.”

Xabi held his ground. “How about I don’t give you the boy and up it to a fifteen percent increase?”

Stevie snorted. Who did this man think he was? “No, the boy was part of the deal.”

“No, _you_ asked for him. I didn’t say yes.” Xabi stood straighter and tilted his chin up proudly. He refused to sit down on the visitor’s chair in front of his desk. “Why do you want him?”

Stevie clasped his hands together and smiled a Cheshire smile. “I need a reason to feel generous.”

“I could report you for criminal solicitation,” The Basque threatened, a cold edge in his tone. He didn’t want to sound like he was grasping for a bargaining chip.

Stevie laughed out loud now. “You need to brush up on your research, Xabi. It’s not criminal solicitation if he’s the one who offers himself to me. Then, it’s prostitution and I’m just the helpless fool attacked by the whore.” His grin gave way to a cruel smirk. “Now, it’s your job to make sure he offers himself to me.”

“Then I’ll get you charged for police abuse,” Xabi said, but his palms actually started breaking into cold sweat. This was unacceptable, and he shoved them deep in his pockets.

“Like someone would listen to you,” the Scouser actually sounded bored. He sipped at his champagne noisily then sloshed the liquid inside his glass. Xabi held back the retort that champagne didn’t need to be swirled around the glass like that.

Stevie continued, “I just told you, your friends in the force have all been booted out.” He batted his eyelashes annoyingly up at Xabi. “Actually, come to think of it, I’m your _only_ friend in Scotland Yard now. I should up my rates.”

Xabi gritted his teeth. “Twenty percent, no boy.”

Stevie shook his head and even retorted cheekily. “Twenty percent and the boy.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Xabi said, taking a step closer to the desk and planting his hands on the wooden edge.

Stevie gulped down his champagne and reached for the bottle again, “I won’t need to fuck with you if you gave me that boy to fuck around with.”

Xabi swatted Stevie’s hands from the bottle and grabbed it, holding it away from the Scouser’s reach.

“Well, does it have to be the boy?” He demanded, unsure of whether Stevie would take the bait. Fortunately, Stevie’s forehead wrinkled and he asked, “Why, do you have an alternative idea?”

Xabi bit back his relieved smile. Hook, line and sinker.

“Actually, I may have a _better_ idea.”

“Oh?” Stevie could only mutter, half-suspicious, half-intrigued; Xabi had to wonder whether Stevie knew that curiosity was a dangerous little plaything.

“Yes,” Xabi said confidently, smiling as he filled Stevie’s glass with champagne again. He lifted the bottle and Stevie clinked his glass to it despite his blatant confusion.

“Cheers,” Xabi said, before knocking down his fizzy straight from the bottle. Then, he expertly mounted his desk and pushed Stevie back on his chair with his legs.

*

By the time Xabi was done with Stevie, the Scouser looked less like a cop and more like the men and women who regularly came and left this place. His skin smelled of spit and sweat, and his hair had even more uneven tufts down the sides. His discarded briefs were streaked with dried-up spunk, while the front of his shirt was doused in alcohol because Xabi had been a little tipsy and maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tilt the bottle into Stevie’s waiting mouth to serve him with a fresh round of champagne. But by god, did the man look satisfied.

And to be fair, Stevie wasn’t a man who was easily contented. He sure knew how to flesh the most out of a deal until it felt like a bargain. If Xabi had been thinking straight now, he would think Stevie had practically robbed him. But he was bone-tired so maybe he would just think about those things tomorrow.

For tonight, at least the deal had been struck and sealed. Stevie walked away with a thousand-pound check in his pocket and a satiated, raw cock in his pants. Xabi, on the other hand, got to see his bar operate another day, just like he wanted. He also got a – he begrudgingly admitted this to himself, nobody had to know – a pretty good fuck along the way too.

And there was a reason why Xabi always got what he wanted – he had a way with people. He had a _very good_ way with people.

Tonight, that ‘way’ included having to pin Stevie back against Xabi’s desk chair, hooking his leg on either side of the arm rest and sucking him off before the Scouser even had the chance to say “blowjob.” It didn’t take him long to get the drift, though, and after Xabi had deep-throated him a couple of times, Stevie pushed him off and ordered him to bend over. Stevie’s cock was hard and dripping copiously by then. As Xabi got on his hands and knees on the floor, he was briefly amazed at how Stevie managed to hold himself from coming at that point. But then again, the man had finished his first load already during the live show so he could keep himself hard for much longer this time around.

Stevie fucked him in good, long strokes. And as much as Xabi hated the cop’s erratic rhythm and that panting, breathy, pitchy tone in his moans, and the wrinkles in his scrunched-up face, nothing could be said for Stevie’s size and girth. That kept Xabi’s mouth shut, definitely, among other things.

Xabi never allowed himself to whimper or scream or cry out Stevie’s name. He thought was just beneath him. He moaned a little, groaned when Stevie particularly hit a good spot, but other than what he could restrain, he was soundless and emotionless. Not that Stevie cared of course. To him, Xabi was just a hot, tight ass that could take a good pounding and didn’t need to be anything else. Xabi didn’t want to be anything else to Stevie anyway either.

After Stevie shot his load inside Xabi, Xabi pulled away and rolled tiredly on his back, not caring that the carpet was dirty and itchy and burning against his skin. The Basque panted tiredly, instinctively gripping his still stiff cock, aching for release.

Stevie had eyed him, Xabi didn’t miss it.

“You need help with that?” Stevie asked, and Xabi just frowned. The post-sex aura was dissipating rapidly, and Stevie was no longer the hot, tantalising pressure throbbing inside him. Now, he was becoming just a pair of shifty eyes and that annoying squeaky lilted voice.

“No,” he replied coldly, beating his cock by himself. He was not going to owe anything to Steven Gerrard, not even an orgasm. Stevie just sat on his ankles, trying to catch his breath, watching Xabi with feigned disinterest.

“Fuck,” Xabi moaned to himself, touching his body even more frantically now, writing against the floor and thrusting up at his own hand.

“Come on,” Stevie whispered, egging Xabi on, eagerly waiting for what would happen next.

After Xabi came, he leaned his head back on the floor, blinking slowly a few times to regain some dignified sense of composure. He felt the sweat trickling down the side of his neck, heating his face. When the haze started to taper off, Xabi mustered enough energy to look at his come-streaked hands. He looked at it oddly, as if torn about what to do with it. He was going to wipe it down the side of his leg or on the carpet, when Stevie suddenly took his wrist.

“What?” Xabi could only breathe out softly, he wasn’t sure Stevie heard him.

Stevie lapped up the seed on Xabi’s palm, licking away the sticky fluids that had clung to the Basque’s fingers and the soft in-betweens. Xabi watched him with a strange sense of disembodiment – like he was just watching this scene unfold from far away and he could do nothing to stop it.

“All clean,” Stevie said, smacking his lips.

Xabi just blinked blankly up at him, still not believing this was happening.

“Xabi?”

Xabi propped himself up on his elbows, glancing at Stevie briefly before shaking his head.

“I’m going to get me some more champagne.”

*

It was closing time and Pepe was almost done clearing out people from the room. Fernando lay on the bed bonelessly, somewhere in between awake and brain-dead. He heard himself speak, but even his own voice rang hollowly in his head.

“You can tell which men have raging hard-ons because they’re the ones who are walking funny,” Fernando said, his mouth feeling slack and his tongue heavy. His eyes lazily followed the audience members filing out of the room, adjusting themselves in their trousers and taking cautious steps as if pained with every action.

Dan didn’t reply, not even so much as a snicker. With great effort, Fernando turned his head to the side slightly to see the other boy. He was spread out completely – arms and legs akimbo, head upturned and staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. The only movement came from the erratic twitching of his fingers, and that didn’t look voluntary either. Looks like Daniel hasn’t come down from his high just yet.

“I think I’ve died.” Dan mumbled, hands still trembling, after-effects of several violent orgasms shared between them.

Fernando chuckled hoarsely but his chest felt too heavy to give him enough air. “That was a good round.”

“Yeah,” a small smile tugged at the corner of Dan’s mouth. “Yeah, it was.”

Fernando cast a sidelong glance at the Dane, and he was still staring at the ceiling – not so much dazed this time as pensive.

“What are you thinking of?”

For the first time, Dan turned around to gaze at Fernando. He sighed.

He was thinking of desire and he thought it was elusive until he realised he was the one who always let it go. It was like a bubble floating and shiny, tempting and seducing and ever-present but he never fully reached out to it in case it burst. When you fulfil desires, you quench them and you can’t pine for something you already have.

He was thinking maybe it was alright Fernando was never his or at least, never his completely. At least that meant he would always want him.

He was thinking of Fernando and he was thinking of himself, how he even came to fall for the boy with the messy golden hair, how he came to lick at the prayer on his lips.

Dan sighed again and shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

Fernando scooted closer until they were two bodies aligned with each other. He reached out tentatively, chewing at his inner lip dubiously as he tried to stroke at Dan’s cheekbone. The room was empty by now and the hall was completely quiet. Fernando strangely felt even more shy, even more exposed.

Now, no one was watching them as he slid his hand to Dan’s hip. Only Dan was watching and that made Fernando’s heart pound even more anxiously as he softly gripped at Dan’s barely erect cock. The younger boy immediately hissed in discomfort and Fernando flinched back as if his fingers had been burned.

“Sorry.” Dan grimaced, “Raw.”

He sought out Fernando’s gaze again but the Spaniard was even more unsure now, like he had just taken a gamble but ended up losing all his chips. Dan tilted Fernando’s chin up so he could stare at him, convey some form of assurance.

”Here,” Dan whispered, urging Fernando to roll around to face the opposite way, then gently pressing up against him so that their two tender bodies spooned against each other – hip to hip, knee to knee, heartache to heartache, arms around waist and chin on shoulder. Dan felt Fernando sag against him in acceptance, surrender.

He was just pressing a kiss to Fernando’s shoulder, inhaling his scent of sweat and sex when his eyes recognised the fresh bite mark embedded deep in the flesh. Dan winced and he knew there was also a cut on the Spaniard’s lip and an old bruise on his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, ashamed, against Fernando’s neck. For a moment, he considered promising to be more careful next time, but he decided he broke too many promises tonight already. “Did I hurt you?”

Fernando didn’t answer. _‘Yes,’_ he could have said. _‘You hurt me all the time and you never stop.’_ But this was Daniel and he wouldn’t be Daniel if he didn’t leave his scars mapped out all over Fernando’s body. Besides, Fernando was sure he had hurt Dan far too often just the same.

He bent his head back and kissed Dan, the younger boy taking his swollen lip into his mouth and sucking at it as soothingly as he could, but he unknowingly only ended up stimulating the open wound even more. Fernando wanted to recoil, whimper, but he held it back.

He knew passion and pain too often went together, couldn’t have one without the other. Rather like –

Dan and him.


End file.
